


Sometimes, Hell Was Better

by DeanWinchesterIsTrans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: FTM Dean Winchester, Trans Boy Dean, ftm character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanWinchesterIsTrans/pseuds/DeanWinchesterIsTrans
Summary: Dysphoria sucks ass.





	Sometimes, Hell Was Better

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic descriptions of dysphoria cause this was sorta a vent work for me, so if u experience dysphoria too, please be careful while reading!

Dean sat alone in the crappy motel room. He took a deep breath in, then out. In, then out.

He felt an aching deep in his chest and he felt like he wanted to dig his fingers deep into his flesh and tear himself apart until there was nothing left.

Just pull and tear until there was nothing left. Goodbye Dean Winchester. Goodbye as well, to the memory of Deanna Winchester, the rough and tumble little girl who's memory he still couldn't kill. Out of all the impossible things he has killed, a memory was the hardest thing to eradicate.

Sometimes, he would stumble across an old picture that would make him cry and shake and want to rip it all to shreds, hands shaking, face smeared with fat ugly tears.

He wanted to tear himself apart, because it was all wrong. All horribly wrong. Sure, he passed alright. Covering up in tons of layers of clothes all over a binder. Lowering his voice on purpose, as low as it would go, acting confident, as if he belonged, introducing himself with 'Dean, Dean Winchester' wherever he went. Sometimes he convinced himself too. Convinced himself he was just like any other man out there.

But then he would have to go to the bathroom in public, going into a stall, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he wouldn't be found out. Having to part ways the moment flirting with some gal went from just chatting to 'so, your place, or mine?' Any time he looked in the mirror, and saw too much of his mom, not enough of his dad.

Any time Sam slipped up on his name, or called him she, or referred to him as his 'older sister'. Sammy didn't mean a thing by it, and he always apologized profusely, but it still felt like a bullet to the chest.

Any time anyone used the word 'transgender', 'transsexual', 'tranny', or made the thousandth joke about trans people around him, making his heart race, and scan the room for quick exits.

Long drives, thinking about the future, regretting this damned life of his. There was no way he'd be able to get top surgery, or go on T, or even stick around long enough with a psychiatrist to convince the shrink he was absolutely sure he was a boy. What the hell kind of bullshit was that anyway? 'Sorry, we can't accept what you're saying unless you give us absolute proof for six months you're sure about this.' Honestly, why would he even bother with even half the damn process if he wasn't completely sure?

Even if he did manage to convince the right folks, he wouldn't ever have the time, or stability to even begin to transition. He would never be anywhere stable enough to get prescriptions for T, and getting enough of a break to take off a few months for top surgery had about a snowball's chance in hell.

And changing his legal name, Deanna Winchester, the little country girl from Lawrence, Kansas, to Dean Winchester, known fugitive, one of FBI's most wanted, was idiotic at best.

He hunched over on the edge of the bed, feeling horribly nauseous. His dad's voice rang in his ears: 'great, you cut your hair, now you look like a dyke. I won't have my daughter looking like that, you're gonna grow it back out, you hear me?' He remembered his mom telling him to be a 'good little girl', doing his hair up in bows that he tore out the moment she turned her back.

His throat felt tight like it was closing up, a suffocating feeling overwhelming him. Dean closed his eyes up tight, trying to remember comforting things instead.

Castiel calling him the Righteous Man, calling him Dean, not once, not ever calling him his dead name. Sam watching Star Wars with him and deciding that Dean was definitely Luke. Dean had protested at the time, claiming he should be Han Solo instead, but he was secretly pleased Sam associated him with a boy character. Bobby helping him to order a binder, instantly accepting him the moment he came out, calling him boy, and Dean.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as memories of John calling him daughter, refusing to enroll him in schools as a boy, being outed when his name was called for role, even though he had passed perfectly before the teacher got to his name. Girls running away once they realized he wasn't cis, boys calling him a heshe, an it. Gym teachers sending him to the office for refusing to dress out so often, he just went straight to the principal's office instead of the locker room.

Dean dug his nails into the palm of his hands, trying to find something grounding. It made him all the more aware of how wrong his body was, but it was better than being stuck in that hell of memories.

Hell.

There was one fantastic thing about Hell. When he was down there, it wasn't his body stuck in that cesspool, it was just his soul. His soul, as an appearance of how he saw himself. While Hell was, well, hell, it was better than how he felt up here in one way and one way only. He didn't have dysphoria. Even though his chest was being carved apart on a daily basis for several decades, it was flat. He saw himself as a cis boy, so that's how his soul appeared in hell. Dysphoria would've been an incredibly effecient method of torture, but Alistair, for some godforsaken reason, never put him through that. Maybe he didn't have the power to do so, or maybe he just wasn't enough of a total dick to do that to Dean. Either way, somehow, Alistair, the douchebag that tortured him for years in hell, managed to one up God and his whole heavenly army of choirboy dicks. Amazing.

Hell scared the shit out of Dean, but sometimes it seemed better than life topside.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into a character study idk ???


End file.
